Insomnia is Not Pretty
by katbybee
Summary: Written for the Forum XIIIc 60) The Papa Bear and Mr. Hyde Challenge by Tuttle asking what would happen when one of our heroes goes too long without sleep. This is my answer...It turns one lovable hero into a not-so-lovable hero! Of course, there are twists and turns along the way...it wouldn't be me if there wasn't! Introducing an OC I hope you like as well! R/R Don't own (Darn!)
1. Angry Andrew

"G'mornin' mate!" Peter Newkirk sat down at the table after roll call, lighting his first cigarette of the day.

"What's so good about it?" Andrew Carter groused, a sour expression on his normally cheerful face. He stood up abruptly and stalked out of the room, slamming the door as he left the barracks.

Surprised, Newkirk looked over at Kinch, who was also looking on in amazement. "What's eatin' him?"

Kinch shrugged, "Dunno, but you know Carter. He'll likely walk it off and get over it."

Hogan came out of his room at the sound of the door. "What's up, fellas? What's with all the noise?"

LeBeau looked up from where he was fussing with something at the stove. "You'll have to ask Carter when he gets back; but if he slams that door again, he's going to ruin my soufflé for sure."

Hogan was puzzled. _Carter in a temper?_ He scratched his head and turned to Kinch. "Tell him I want to talk to him when he gets back, will you?"

"Will do, Colonel."

Satisfied for the moment, Hogan went on back into his room, and settled back down with the book he had been reading.

Newkirk on the other hand was still pondering the situation.

"Anybody notice anything strange about Carter lately?"

"Like what?" Kinch was interested now.

"I dunno...like different. I know he hasn't been talking all the time like he usually does. That's one thing."

LeBeau put in, "And he doesn't eat much. Of course, that's not so strange; he doesn't usually eat all that much. But he has been much quieter."

Kinch chuckled, "Maybe he's in love."

Newkirk snickered, "With who, mate? He hasn't even been in town since that barmaid dumped him."

LeBeau grinned, "Maybe he's seeing Hilda on the sly."

Newkirk outright laughed at that. "And risk getting his head handed to him by Colonel Hogan. No, mate, Carter may be dumb, but he's not stupid."

Unfortunately, none of them had seen Carter slip quietly back into the barracks. He had heard Newkirk's last comment. He opened the door again and closed it more loudly, making them all jump. The expression on his face said it all.

Newkirk stood up quickly and started to apologize, but Carter held up his hand and shook his head. "Don't. Just don't, Newkirk. I get it."

Lamely, Kinch pointed to Hogan's quarters, "Col. Hogan wants to see you."

"Yeah, well, I don't want to see him!"

"He told me to give you the message!"

"And I outrank you, so you gave me the message. So don't worry about it."

And with that Carter stormed toward the door, only to be collared by Hogan, who stepped through his door at that moment. "Hold it, Sergeant. I gave you an order." With that the young man was pulled bodily backwards into Hogan's quarters and the door was firmly shut.

The others in the barracks stared at each other in astonishment. Newkirk blew out his breath.

Andrew sat sullenly across from his colonel, not meeting his eyes. Hogan was genuinely confused by his normally affable demolition expert's uncharacteristic behavior. He also knew how stubborn he could be and that he wasn't going to get anything out of him without playing twenty questions.

"What happened in there between you and the guys?"

"Nothing." Okay, he should have expected that one.

"It sounded as if you were having an argument."

"Nothing that won't work itself out."

"Things have been quiet lately."

"Yessir."

"How have your experiments been going?"

"Fine."

"No concussions, no blowing yourself up?" Hogan tried to say this lightly, but the questions were serious. Carter had a knack for blowing himself to kingdom come with disturbing regularity and seeming to survive most of the attempts fairly unscathed.

"Sir, I am totally fine. May I go?"

"Actually, no you may not. You didn't answer my question."

Carter sighed. "No concussions, no explosions, no chemical spills, and no experiments gone wrong...I am completely fine! Sir!"

This last was said through clenched teeth, and barely contained rage.

Hogan shook his head and looked closer at Andrew's pale, haggard face. "No, Sergeant, I really don't think you are. But I have no idea what's wrong. You don't feel sick or anything?"

Carter seemed calmer. "No, sir, honestly. I am fine. If it will make you feel better, I'll go lie down for a while."

Hogan nodded. "That might be a good idea. At least till lunch."

"I'll do that. Are you going to be in here, sir?"

Hogan sighed. "Yeah, I have a lot of Red Cross paperwork to catch up on. Tell LeBeau to bring mine into me, will you?"

"Yessir."

Carter relayed the message to LeBeau, then without another word headed to the tunnel bunk. He stayed down in his lab, puttering for several hours. He knew laying down would have been pointless.

He was not about to explain to Colonel Hogan that he could not sleep. That he would not sleep. That he had not slept in nearly 67 hours. That if it were up to him, he would never sleep again. He eyed the concoction. He lifted the beaker and drank. It tasted terrible, but it kept the nightmares at bay, and that's all he cared about.


	2. The Crash

Two days later, Andrew stopped eating altogether. Things were still very slow as far as missions were concerned. Perhaps if they had been busy, things would have gone differently. Newkirk and Carter were not speaking at this point. Actually, Carter had pretty much isolated himself from the rest of Barracks Two, claiming he was working on some sensitive experiments that needed constant supervision.

Hogan knew something felt wrong. So did Newkirk. This was his best mate after all. But getting close enough to find out what was happening was definitely a problem. Then Olsen, of all people provided the answer they needed.

He was sitting shooting the breeze with the others and made an offhand remark that resonated with Hogan.

"Y'know, it's weird how the bad dreams always get worse when it's slow around here, isn't it? I had one the other night that scared the bejabbers outta me!"

Kinch had gone down to send a message to London and suddenly came quickly back through the tunnel entrance. "Colonel Hogan, come quick, it's Carter! He's—well you gotta come!"

Hogan and the others jumped up and he turned to LeBeau as he did, "Go and bring Wilson!" LeBeau nodded and headed over to the tunnel under the sink.

Hogan and Newkirk raced into the tunnel to where Carter was sitting cross-legged on the floor of his laboratory and pouring chemicals into a large beaker.

Kinch whispered, "I don't think he's with it at all. He was mumbling something about killing the ghosts once and for all and how he didn't need to split an atom to do it."

Hogan paled and replied, "Oh, I think unfortunately, he's more with it that you think he is."

He eased in next to the young sergeant. Quietly he spoke, hoping he wouldn't spook him. "What'cha doin'?"

Tiredly, Carter spoke without looking at him. "I have to get rid of them."

"Rid of who?"

"The ghosts."

"What ghosts are those?"

"The ones that won't leave me alone. The ones that won't let me sleep."

"What are you gonna do to them?"

For the first time, Carter looked at Hogan. "Blow 'em up, sir."

Hogan asked, "Carter, how long is it since you've slept?"

"I can' sleep, sir. I can't."

"Do you remember the last time you slept?"

Carter sighed heavily. "It was when Newkirk and I went out and planted the explosives for the munitions convoy." His eyes closed in remembered agony.

Hogan flinched as he realized what must have happened. A local farm family had blundered unexpectedly over the bridge and had been killed by the explosion instead of the convoy. And Andrew had turned around just in time to actually witness the explosion. These were Andrew's "ghosts." Newkirk had told Hogan what happened.

And apparently Andrew had not slept since that mission, well over a week ago! Most of his recent behavior now made sense. Hogan saw that Wilson was there. Hogan reached out carefully and touched Carter gently. "Andrew?"

Andrew looked over. "Yeah?"

"It wasn't your fault, you know. You couldn't have known about that family."

"I know that, Colonel. But it's not just them, sir. All the people that have ever died in my explosions, no matter who they were have come back with that family. And they're waiting for me every time I close my eyes. So you see why I can't do it any more… I can't sleep anymore!"

Standing in the background, Newkirk looked at LeBeau, his heart breaking for his friend, but trying to hide it. He spoke very quietly. "My God, me mate's goin' crackers!"

Wilson looked at him. "No, I think it's just severe sleep deprivation mixed with a good old-fashioned guilt complex. Peter, do me a favor, go find Taffy Matthews and bring him here."

Peter's face registered his distaste. "What do you want with that sky pilot, Doc?"

The medic threw a pointed look at Newkirk. _"Corporal_ ," said the Sergeant. "That's an order," he said flatly.

Hogan also looked over as he heard the exchange. This was no time for a confrontation. "Do it, Newkirk."

Peter turned on his heel and headed off. He wasn't trying to be insubordinate. He honestly had no use for chaplains in general and this chaplain in particular. He saw no way a sky pilot was going to help his friend.


	3. Taffy and Newkirk

CHAPTER FOUR—TAFFY & NEWKIRK

Newkirk found Lt Valentine "Taffy" Matthews playing softball with some of the other prisoners. He had to admit for a sky pilot he wasn't all that bad. He just didn't like that Taffy kept asking him questions he couldn't answer. Besides, he had reason not to trust Matthews.

He waited till after Taffy had hit the ball pitched to him, as he didn't want to get hit by a ball, and hollered at the chaplain, as he ran towards him.

"Col. Hogan needs you, it's Carter"

Taffy immediately reversed direction to join him and they headed for Barracks Two. The short, slender Welshman swept his unruly copper hair from his dark brown eyes. "What happened, Peter?"

Newkirk told him, "Not exactly sure, but apparently he's not slept in about a week, something about nightmares or something. Sgt. Wilson and Col. Hogan asked for you. For some reason, they thought you could help."

Taffy stopped outside the door and laid his hand carefully on Newkirk's arm. Touching Peter at any time was a risky proposition, and from long experience, Taffy knew it.

"What about you, Peter, what do you think? He's your .best friend, after all."

Peter stiffened and glared at Taffy. "Look. You and me 'ave an 'istory nobody 'ere knows about. That's one thing. So you got that over me, and I don't like it. So just go juggle yer beads and do whatever you do.

But keep yer trap shut about me. They already know I ain't no saint and that's enough. If they knew what I'd done…well, just say they'd better never find out, mate." Peter's green eyes glittered.

And Taffy nodded. "I never expected to find you here, Peter…but I promise you, I never have said a word, and I never will. Because what happened to you was wrong. I was never happier than when I had heard you had gotten Churchill's deal."

Newkirk waved in dismissal, "Enough. Just remember what I said and go see what you can do for me mate."

And after he had escorted Matthews down to where the others waited, none of them noticed when Peter slipped down one of the other tunnels and slid down to sit and smoke until he could get his roiling fears under control.

All the others were here voluntarily. He alone had no choice. Col. Hogan was the only other one who knew his story. And he trusted him implicitly anyway. And for that, Peter Newkirk would give his life for any one of the men on this team. He breathed deeply. Who would have thought his past would come up and kick him so squarely in the ass? Would he ever be free of it? He studied his shaking hands. Apparently not.*


	4. Preventative Measures

CHAPTER FOUR—PREVENTATIVE MEASURES

Taffy stepped quietly into the lab. "Hello, Andrew." He exchanged places with Col. Hogan, who stepped back out into the tunnel, to speak to Sgt. Wilson.

"So what do you think?"

"Offhand, I would say he has himself drugged with some sort of chemical compound similar to that in infantry chocolate."

"You're kidding! He synthesized that stuff in his lab? How did he manage that?"

Wilson shrugged. "I gather that for a chemist of his abilities it really wouldn't be that hard. The problem is that the stuff is pretty hard on the body after a while, and eventually you will sleep, whether you want to or not.

Has he been exhibiting signs of increased irrationality or irritability like he has today, or is this new?"

"Well, he hasn't looked good, and he has been real touchy and angry for the last few days. Not like himself at all. Today has definitely been the worst. Also, he hasn't been eating."

"And I would bet if you asked him, he would probably tell you he wasn't hungry at all. He's also likely highly dehydrated." Wilson shook his head.

Hogan shook his head in amazement. "All that from sleep deprivation and the stuff in infantry chocolate?"

"Yeah, except that our resident genius managed to synthesize the ingredients down to too pure a form. That's where he screwed up. That's what basically flipped him out."

"Will he be all right?"

"Oh, I think so, given some supportive care and time. I think Matthews can help treat the root cause of the problem, and I can treat the physical symptoms. I just wish we had seen what was happening earlier."

Taffy Matthews stepped out just then. He had his arm around a rather shaky Carter. "We've been talking, and I think things are going to be alright. Wilson, I do think this is where you take over, now? Colonel, I'll wait here, I'd like to talk to you, if I may."

Hogan nodded, then stepped over and he and Kinch helped get Carter down the tunnel to the infirmary. LeBeau went back up to the barracks to make some soup.

Newkirk materialized from the tunnel behind Taffy. He stood silently, staring at the other man. "I heard what you said to Colonel 'ogan." His voice was low and dangerous. "What're you plannin' on sayin' mate?"

Taffy shook his head, smiling ruefully. "You really don't trust me, do you, Peter?"

Newkirk inhaled deeply on his cigarette for a moment. "If I did, I'd be with me mate right now."

Hogan walked up to the two just then. He took stock of the situation. "Andrew's asking for you, Peter."

Newkirk threw one more pointed look at Matthews, ground out his cigarette, and stalked away.

Taffy scratched his cheek and looked at Hogan. "Pleasant fellow, ain't he?" His rich Welsh accent came through more strongly when he was stressed.

"So you wanna tell me why he's ready to tear your head off, Taffy?"

He shrugged with a calm he didn't feel. "Just a personal problem, sir. We'll work it out."

"Well, I don't want it affecting the camp, or our missions."

"I understand, sir. I don't believe it will."

"So what did you want to see me about?"

"Well, it's just an idea, but after talking with Carter, I think a post-mission bull-session which included both Wilson and meself might not be a bad idea. You don't need to worry about language around me, sir. I've heard it all. I've had some pretty rough postings, and I think it would give both Wilson and me a chance to pick up on things that might be bothering the men that might otherwise fester and turn into problems like what happened with Carter."

"Makes good sense to me. If we get back too late at night, we'll just have an excuse for breakfast the next morning."

"I'm glad you like the idea. I have talked about this with Wilson before. We just hadn't had a chance to discuss with you before. I wish now we had."

"Well, we can only move forward. Looks like Carter is going to be fine in a week or so. And the stuff he was mixing in the lab was just a bunch of inert chemicals, and not a bomb, so we lucked out there, too. Let's get on upstairs."

As they went up to the barracks, Hogan made a mental note to check with London personally on Matthew's previous postings. If what he suspected was true, it would explain a lot. As they sat down at the table for a cup of coffee, LeBeau offered one to Matthews. He took it gratefully. Hogan arched an eyebrow at the chaplain. "I was wondering. Where did you ever get a name like 'Taffy'? Isn't your given name Valentine?"

Taffy grinned. "Yep. Some of me family calls me 'Val' but because I was born in Cardiff near the Taff River, somehow, when I went to the mines, somebody stuck me with 'Taffy,' and that I've been to this day!"

Hogan nodded. "Makes sense!" Everyone laughed when Hogan continued. "Well, it could have been worse…You could have been born by the Shannon River."

A wicked gleam appeared in Taffy's eye. "Yep, that would have been worse. I'd have been Irish!" The men really broke up at that.

Kinch replied, "Now you sound like Newkirk!"

Taffy rolled his eyes. "Don't let _him_ hear you say that." He smiled and put down his empty cup. "I'll be back later. I need to make me rounds before evening roll call."


	5. One Week Later

CHAPTER FIVE-ONE WEEK LATER

A party was in progress in Barracks Two. Andrew Carter was back. He was in the middle of telling a particularly goofy story from home that left no doubt that he was feeling much better.

Sgt. Wilson had dropped by from Barracks Five to supervise his patient and make sure he behaved himself. He needn't have worried. Louis LeBeau had appointed himself Carter's personal mother hen for the evening, much to the amusement of the others.

Even Newkirk was much more his affable self. He was even being civil to Taffy, ever since Hogan had called Peter into his quarters for a long talk a few days before. No one knew what had been said, but whatever it was, it seemed to reassure the Londoner, and he had settled down quite a bit.

LeBeau brought his latest creation to the table, a pineapple-upside-down cake, one of Carter's favorites. It even had the cherries in it. Everyone was impressed.

"Hey," Carter asked, where'd you get the cherries?"

Newkirk grinned. "I pinched 'em from the Canteen, didn't I, mate!"

Carter laughed. "Great job, pal!"

"Well, otherwise, 'e woulda used olives, 'cause that's all we had in the pantry, so…"

Everyone laughed while making appropriate gagging noises.

LeBeau managed to look affronted while blowing a raspberry at Newkirk. "No such thing! I would never ruin such a creation with olives, you cretin, you, you…" and he was off in a tirade of French so rapid even Kinch couldn't keep up with it, not that he would have translated it even if he had caught it all. But it did leave him practically rolling with laughter.

When LeBeau had finally calmed down and Kinch had finally caught his breath, Newkirk looked at the sergeant sitting next to him. "Okay, Kinch, what did he say?"

Kinch grinned and shook his head, "Nuh-uh! I don't wanna tell you, and you don't wanna know." And this set off another round of giggles out of the big man, much to the amusement of everyone but Newkirk. Especially when LeBeau gave Kinch an extra-large serving of cake.

Eventually, Newkirk grinned. "Boy, whatever you said musta been pretty good, Louis. But that's okay, little mate."

Louis looked up, slightly concerned. When Newkirk said something nice, there was usually a zinger coming along behind it…and he was not disappointed.

Newkirk nonchalantly finished his cake, and then picked up his coffee cup.

"I forgot to tell you I didn't exactly pinch those cherries. I had to make a deal for 'em."

LeBeau looked at the Englishman suspiciously. "What does _your_ deal have to do with _me_?"

"Well mate," he leaned back on the bench against the pillar of his bunk, "I 'ad to promise 'em you'd make 'em apple strudel for a week. They'll bring you the stuff." He grinned.

The shriek out of LeBeau brought Schultz at a run. They had to promise _him_ an apple strudel to keep from being reported. After he left, both Carter and Newkirk wound up side by side rolling on the floor, laughing hysterically.

The End

A/Ns: * Peter and Taffy's story will be told in another work that is currently in progress and that will be published soon. Also, I have changed Taffy's rank to reflect the fact that chaplains were always officers. For purposes of my story, I have had him assigned to Stalag 13, although he is an officer, as the camp chaplain. Please note, Taffy does not consider Newkirk's attitude towards him to be disrespectful because of their previous history. (All will be explained, I promise!) Thanks to Book 'em Again and L. E. Wigman for the valuable information and heads up! You are the best! :-)

** "Infantry" or "G.I. Chocolate" was chocolate bars that were laced with speed in order to allow troops to stay on their feet and fight as long as possible. There were reports of its use by pilots as well. It was used by both Allied and Axis troops in WWII and in subsequent wars as well. As a result, many soldiers ended up hooked on drugs, though there was much denial of the situation. There is much fascinating research that has been done on the subject. Google the subject if you are interested. The author Lee Child goes into this subject in his book "61 Hours."


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